


Reunited

by hufflepirate



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, could be read as slash I guess or as not-slash, elaborated scene, like literally I only wrote exactly what happened in the show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:06:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1317589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflepirate/pseuds/hufflepirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan and Duke’s reunion scene from 4.01 (Fallout) from Nathan’s perspective, because I had a thought about it. Mostly this was just practice at writing Nathan, but people seemed to like it ok on Tumblr, so I'm posting it over here.  Could be read as Nuke if you wanted.  Or Naudrey.  Or just everyone being friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunited

**Author's Note:**

> All dialogue comes directly from Haven and belongs to the good folks at Syfy.

The taste of blood used to be a sign. It used to be how he knew to back off, knew something was wrong. Now it was normal. Constant. He tasted blood and when he couldn’t stand the taste of it anymore, he took a break. But it wasn’t about the pain. He couldn’t feel the pain. He couldn’t feel anything. It was about the chance to - for an instant - stop tasting blood. Beer washed it down well enough. The hard stuff cut it better, burned it away a little, but then he got drunk faster and he made less money that way. When he was drunk, he was pathetic. He didn’t take the hit the same way. He lost balance and toppled over. He looked like he was in pain even when he wasn’t. People didn’t pay for that. Not like they paid to hit the man who never seemed to care they’d hit him. Not like they paid to take advantage of a desperate man who looked them in the eye as if he weren’t desperate at all, as if this was actually what he wanted.

In groups like this, done was never done. There was always that one last guy, the guy whose friends had stepped up to hit him and who hadn’t gotten to do it too, that one last guy who sometimes had his doubts and could be turned away and who sometimes needed so desperately to impress the friends who had already punched Nathan that he couldn’t be turned away at all without risking a full-scale fistfight. He swatted away the $20 bill without looking at it. ”I need a break.”

And then the voice. ”I would have suggested Jamaica.” The voice was familiar. The sarcasm was there like it was just a habit, the voice soft instead of biting. Not a stranger, then. Not speaking loudly to impress the other men in the circle. Not angry like it disapproved of him, though it didn’t sound impressed either. Sarcasm with soft edges, and after a moment, things clicked into place and he realized - Duke. It was Duke. It couldn’t be, because Duke was dead, but that was who he’d heard.

He almost didn’t want to turn to see. He almost didn’t want to break the illusion. It couldn’t be Duke. But he wanted it to be. Because he’d been waiting on Duke and Audrey for 6 months, hoping they’d come back, hoping he’d see them again, and - it pulled at his heart again, the feeling that he needed to see them. He needed them back. And he’d heard the voice. He knew the voice. It had to be Duke. It had to.

He turned around, preparing himself to be crushed again when it was just some stranger breaking the pattern. Some stranger who was different from the rest but not different enough to matter, to change anything.

It was Duke. It was. Nathan simply stared for a moment, taking it in. The ridiculous hair. The ridiculous beard. The ridiculous grin. He’d seen those on other people, but the faces behind them had been different. Shorter or wider or smaller-nosed. But here he was. Long face, long nose, dark eyes. Nathan held Duke’s eyes for an instant, but it felt longer. It was definitely Duke. It was definitely Duke.

His eyes flicked downward and he realized that Duke was wearing the same clothes he’d been in when the barn collapsed. Same stupid shirt. Same stupid undershirt. Same stupid necklace. His hands reached out before he could stop them, because that wasn’t right. No - it was right. For the first time in a long time, something was actually right. But it didn’t make sense.

Nathan couldn’t feel the fabric under his hands. He couldn’t feel Duke’s shoulders or chest. He couldn’t feel anything. But he couldn’t push through Duke, either. His hands settled firmly against Duke’s collarbones and he could see the solidity of the other man. This wasn’t a vision. This wasn’t a dream. He couldn’t feel Duke, but he could touch him anyway. It had to be real because he needed it to be.

Duke clasped Nathan’s shoulders, but Nathan couldn’t feel that either, and he was only aware of it in the vague sense that he could see how Duke’s shoulders moved as he reached out.

This was real. This was real, but a part of his heart still refused to believe it. His face was already convinced, breaking into a grin, but the part of him that still needed proof pushed him forward. He pulled Duke into a hug, burying his nose in the other man’s shoulder and - yes! Duke smelled vaguely like a hospital and less vaguely like he’d been sweating, but most of all he smelled like salt water and himself. Nathan breathed in deeply, taking it in, the definitive proof, more definitive than sight, more definitive than physics, the smell of salt with something under it that was Duke.

His arms tightened around Duke and it occurred to him that he might be squeezing too tightly, but he didn’t care. The hug filled his nose with a smell he’d thought he would never smell again, the smell that had lingered around Duke’s boat and the Grey Gull for a little while after Duke left, but had faded away to join the man himself.

"You smell bad," Duke said.

Nathan almost laughed, but he couldn’t move his jaw, pinned too tightly against his friend’s - were they friends? - shoulder. He wanted to say “You don’t,” but he couldn’t do that, either. All he could do was hold on for one second more. Keep holding on and smelling a tiny hint of home, come back again.

He broke the hug because he had to - he had to see Duke’s face again, had to make sure it was really still him and that he was really standing here, ok, no worse for wear or anything else. He couldn’t bring himself to step back any farther than absolutely necessary, staying close to Duke, almost close enough to smell him, hands still cupped around Duke’s shoulders because he didn’t want the other man to step back, either. He needed to see him and smell him at once. He needed to know. It was still hard to believe. It was still hard to take in.

"I thought you were dead," he said, hoping Duke would understand that he needed to stay close, that Nathan needed to know he was real.

"Yeah, well I had other plans." Other plans. Other plans. Audrey.

Nathan broke away, realizing the moment he thought of Audrey that if he could just find her, he wouldn’t need sight or smell or physics to know she was really there. He would be able to feel her. To feel in general. He hadn’t felt in 6 months. Not since the barn collapsed with the two of them in it.

Duke reached out to stop him, his grip on Nathan’s arm arresting his motion, and Nathan’s heart broke all over again. But this time, it might not have to stay that way.


End file.
